The Slippy Chronicles
by rascals
Summary: Follow me and the gang as we embark on the most exciting adventures since the Lylatt Wars!
1. Location Confirmed, We're Going to Die

Slippy: The Untold Chronicles

Chapter 1: Location Confirmed, We're Going to Die

A Star Fox FanFic

Walking the deck of the _Great Fox, _Slippy Toad found himself showing unabashed anger toward Falco Lombardi. A couple hours before, Slippy approached his sleeping quarters after a night filled with repairs of the beloved fleet of Arwings and other battle equipment, he noticed that someone had taped two especially detailed sequences of pictures on and around his bed. The first sequence of pictures was preceded by an article about planet Earth. The article seemed to indicate that falcons often times anally rape their prey as a way of showing their dominance. After reading that delightful article, the sequence of pictures depicting toads and falcons made sense, if you know what I mean. The second sequence of pictures was a little more grotesque. It became abundantly clear that Falco had used photoshop in order to paste his and face onto a human with a Peter North-sized-cock violating a different character(that looked remarkably like Slippy) in all possible avenues of the body, against his will.

Anyways...details aren't really necessary at this juncture, what you need to know is that Slippy wasn't in the best of moods. This led to some overall shenanigans that I don't have time to get into, but when I arrived on the scene it wasn't looking good for either of my comrades. Slippy had somehow managed to wrestle Flaco to the ground, but on the way down Falco's beak pierced Slippy's foot. Furthermore, Falco's razor-sharp beak had pierced part of the floor and had left him stuck with his face to floor.

In disgust, Falco had started to try to get his beak unstuck, but that's when shit really hit the fan. Fox McCloud arrived on the scene, not ready to deal with any of the ensuing bullshit. He put his foot on the back of Falco's head, keeping his face stuck into the floor. He cleared his throat, and then took the stage, "How in the fuck did this possibly happen." his voice boomed "I'm on Corneria for eight days, and you disgusting fucks don't even check on Peppy?"

Now that he mentioned it, I hadn't seen the old hare around for a while. Slippy and Falco went from being upset to having an inquisitive look on each of their faces. Fox went on, "Motherfucker is dead! I found his decomposing body down in the laundry room, Jesus fuck!"

The room went silent. At that moment a wave of guilt engulfed the three of us collectively, but it was kind of laden with a hint of hilarity. The sheer notion that Slippy and Falco's feud was so intense that they didn't notice that one of their crew had DIED struck me as outrageous, but for that time, I hid my grin rather well.

Fox went on for about five minutes about the disgusting nature of all of us, especially the two fighting on the ground. I had been on the ship for the same amount of time that Fox had been away, so he granted me some lenience for being the new guy. The change from his disgusted tone, to a more understanding tone calmed Slippy and Falco down, both of whom had finally figured out their situation and were standing now. Although he was terribly upset with both Slippy and Falco, Fox decided he better go up to the command deck and send for someone to deal with the decomposed body. Fox took three steps in the direction away from us, when the four of us heard a gut-wrenching noise. It sounded like the breaking of bones mixed with the added sound in your head when Jar-Jar Binks says anything. Just as I went to ask what the fuck was going on, I spotted everyone looking the same direction at a figure up ahead about twenty feet. Then, like the others, I noticed my jaw had dropped. At that moment what appeared to be a zombie version of our beloved comrade Peppy screamed, "LOCATION CONFIRMED, YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!" as he threw an uncapped grenade in our direction.


	2. The Great Debate

Slippy: The Untold Chronicles

A Star Fox FanFic

_Chapter II: The Great Debate_

For starters, if any of the following ninety seconds (which in turn is all this chapter will cover) is going to make sense, we'll have to jump back to 5 days ago, the last time any of the crew remembers seeing Peppy.

* * *

The layout of the Great Fox was getting to me a little bit. Although it had higher than average ceilings, and my personal quarters had just as much space as a college dorm room, I felt a type of claustrophobia bubbling to the forefront because the prospect of leaving this social scene and literal space had been eliminated. It had hit me, the allure of the Great Fox and the Star Fox Team was behind me now. I had been on the ship for three days, and I knew what I needed to know about the ship to live and do my job. The down time that I and the rest of the crew endured was a little more than I was used to, but I knew that I had to get accustomed to life here. I had enlisted for two years of service.

To make the most of things, I went out of my room and down the hall to the commons area where it was normal to see my comrades bickering or talking amongst themselves. The previous two debates revolved around how many different species of life they thought Fox could get sexual consent from firstly, and secondly how badly the Star Fox members could kick the shit out of their respective Star Wolf rivals culminating in Peppy prank calling Pigma. We were all fucked up on some form of drug when he made the call, but I believe the whole prank revolved around Peppy insisting that Pigma had consented to sexual relations with Andross and how awesome fucking a giant brain must have been. Although I had not participated in any of two heated debates I had witnessed, I figured that I had been here for long enough to weigh in this time.

Today, the conversation started lightly with what would become mainstay in group discussion, how terrible a pilot Slippy really was. Falco was going on about some kind of simple elusive procedure that Slippy couldn't perform when Peppy started complaining about how he had been exposed to a large quantity space dust off of the wrong side of Planet Dicks(as we called it), an uninhabitable planet on the edge of our neighboring galaxy. The Great Fox had picked up some strange activity on the planet, but it turned out to be nothing, or so we thought(to be built upon later).

After complaining for several minutes, Peppy kind of fell off of our radar. He moved to the boiler-room(*) of the ship with his trusted needle to do some laundry. Falco, had consumed several drinks, and at this point was hashing out an idea that he thought would make him wealthy. He called it the RS-OD (Reciprocating Strap-On Dildo). Targeting lesbian and bi-sexual female members of each species, Falco thought that having a strap-on reciprocate sexual sensation to the wearer would be a capitalistic endeavor worth pursuing, but after a while, he convinced himself that if this device existed that females would only fuck other females. In light of what he thought would be the destruction of all humanities everywhere, Falco decided to keep his idea under raps. Slippy and I had no words for or against the idea, I simply stated that he was delusional, and may need to seek some kind of psychiatric help.

At this point we had all consumed unholy amounts of alcohol, which was par for the course, but we had also done a large quantity of hard drugs celebrating the absence of Fox, which wasn't so par for the course. Before Falco, Slippy, and myself left, we thought about checking on Peppy, but assumed he had left the boiler room to pass out somewhere. Instead of making sure he was ok, Falco convinced us that if we found him, only trouble would ensue. He insisted that there was a bad history between the two of them when their moods were affected by hard drugs. "After all," he insisted, "passed out hares and cocaine don't go well together." I had no idea what he meant by this, but I decided to leave it alone. After all, I hadn't ever seen any two people interact well on cocaine and heroin respectively.

Upon returning to Falco's quarters for a nightcap, another discussion unfolded. The television was playing some Jean Claude VanDam movie, probably Street Fighter, because I couldn't believe what national identity his character was. After some crazy going-ons in the movie, we got onto the discussion of how one could dodge the incredible Yoga Fire attack, created in the video game Street Fighter II. I started by saying that we had to narrow it down to something that could really happen. I had reasoned in my inebriated state that because we didn't actually exist in the realm of Street Fighter, we would never really know how to dodge the attacks those characters are forced to dodge like those characters do. Slippy suggested that we pretend that we are dodging a grenade lobbed in our general direction. After weighing the pros and cons, we decided a grenade would work just fine. Falco started by saying that he would remove his body armor and throw it at the grenade thereby propelling it back at the attacker. I questioned the amount of time that would take, but Falco assured me that he had removed his clothes this fast when presented with the opportunity of fucking Slippy's mother. Moving past the obvious slight to his mother, Slippy laid out a detailed strategy involving the construction of a catapult, but after he had started to debate with himself what launch point he would return the grenade at, I started to walk away. I hadn't given my response, but I was sure it wasn't much better than what they had come up with.

* * *

The grenade sailed through the air, I dove to the side in an attempt to protect myself. Falco was incapacitated trying to remove his body armor. This led to a seizure of movements that I can only describe as bordering on retardation. Slippy on the other hand, had fainted, which made it abundantly clear that we were going to die. I saw the grenade tumble downward, and was expecting to be annihilated when I saw some fleet feet hurdle my body. Before the feet landed, I saw a wave of green emanate from the wrist of Fox McCloud. As he flipped his reflecting shield on, he simply screamed, "BOB-OMB, BITCHES!"

His shield reflected the grenade back at Peppy. It attempted to explode, but fizzled out. I half suspected that his zombie-self had put the grenade through a few washing machine cycles, but neither the grenade, nor Zombie-Peppy were to any concern of Fox. He began mercilessly making fun of Falco, who had finally wrestled his body armor from his body. His blue feathers were awkwardly strewn about his chest, and his expression was no less frazzled. Pointing out that Falco had the same reflecting ability, Fox was malicious in some of the things he said to him while Peppy watched their exchange. Slippy was out cold, but it wouldn't be too long until he woke up, thinking he was dead...


	3. Much, Much, Much Too Far

Foreword for the remaining chapters: Fox McCloud

I'm going to start this off by saying that it's been a fucked up couple of years. What's his name, Peppy's acting replacement, informed me in some kind of drunken stupor that he was trying to document his adventures with my team. I thought it was some kind of tactic to get me to 'see his depth' so that I would let him take my clothes off or some gay shit; Falco has tried all kinds of fucked up shit to that end.

Anyways, I'm not going to dwell on the effect I have on all sorts of people. The bottom line is that we were stranded on Planet Dicks for two whole fucking years (with some exceptions that…um…that the author will inform you of through his writing, I'm sure). If you remember the first two chapters of this story, it's pretty obvious why we went there; we thought they might have some kind of cure to Peppy's zombie disease. Turns out that our returning to Planet Dicks more than likely saved the whole fucking galaxy (I'm sure asshole face will write about that too).

I haven't decided the regularity with which I will publish this frogshit, and I can't promise that it won't end up with some corrections like the King James' bible, but I can tell you that you are going to want to grab a few females and at least one RS-OD because you're going to want to fuck this story at least as much as it _is _going to fuck you.

FMcC

Here's the third installment.

Slippy: The Untold Chronicles

A Star Fox FanFic

_Chapter III: Much, Much, Much Too Far._

_Author's Note: This is probably going to be posted a week or two late as Great Fox has suffered some technical difficulties on Planet D'ytex (affectionately known as Planet Dicks to the crew). We are investigating the nature of Peppy's zombie disease; it's not likely that we find anything as we have started to experiment with a cocktail of incredibly potent drugs found on Dicks._

When Fox had finally stopped berating Falco, the two of them locked Peppy up in his room. Peppy's condition had not become a concern to them, what had was what to do about Slippy. Fox began insulting his unconscious body; Falco then convinced Fox to take pictures of him sexually degrading any orifice of the now exposed amphibian body. This went on for several minutes before the two of them, at my insistence, decided to try to create an atmosphere in which Slippy would believe that he was dead.

The preparation was nearly complete. Great Fox was facing the nearest star. Fox had dawned a white robe of sorts and was standing between Planet Dicks' sun and Slippy. Fox was normally a coke fiend, but I convinced him that any God to likely exist in Slippy's imagination wouldn't be tweaking as hard as Fox normally does in the wake of his use of the drug. It was decided that oxy was the plan; Falco hadn't informed me exactly how Fox reacted to the drug, but I later found out that he had never used it before. We navigated the Great Fox into Dicks' atmosphere, and lined the top of the Great Fox with the cotton balls taken from Peppy's prescription drug stash.

There might have been six clusters of cotton balls on Great Fox's massive exterior that were supposed to be clouds.

It would have looked ridiculous to anyone that wasn't…well…us.

Falco and I were standing a few yards behind Slippy who was a few yards away from Fox. We were trying to get him to wake up by throwing empties at him. It took about five or six each before he finally came to. At this point Fox wasn't muttering anything discernable. He was seemingly waltzing around the Great Fox in Beryshnikov-esque fashion when Slippy finally came to.

Slippy's coming around only fueled Fox's violent intoxication; he would scream gibberish followed by things like, "NIGHT EXPLOSION" or "HELLFIRE AND DAMNATION". This nonsensical demonstration elicited absolute horror from Slippy. His first response was, "Of course God is a fucking fox." "All these years wondering how You could be so cruel…." It really isn't clear how Slippy couldn't hear Falco and myself laughing hysterically, but that's beside the point, I suppose.

It came to a point where I was determined to interject: Slippy was worshiping Fox, who had stripped him of his clothes. He sauntered towards Slippy until he found himself behind him. Then Slippy made a mistake that he will never live down in the eyes of the crew. He uttered the three words that disgrace you in the eyes of most 'men', "No. Please. _I'm a virgin." _

Luckily for Slippy, those words seemed to break Fox's trance (who I'm almost positive was going to try to engage him in sexual intercourse). Slippy continued asking God for mercy (literally from his view of things), but he wasn't getting much in return. Again, it seemed absolutely ludicrous that Slippy wasn't aware of Falco's and my presence at this point. Falco was trying to interject as the voice of God over Fox, whom Slippy watched intently.

"You descended from the urine of foxes, Slippy!" screamed Falco. This sent Fox into a somewhat subdued rage. He replied back, "You're a fucking liar, you aren't God, you don't know what the fuck it's like to wield this…. POOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW…"

_This scream went on for what seemed to be forever. As it continued, Slippy began a short unsettling confession that ended as soon as it began._

"I am. I am a fucking liar. Falco has drugged me so many times, and raped me…so many times. But, **I think I've come to like it."**

"WWWWEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR."

My jaw pretended to drop, but I wasn't all that surprised. As Fox let out an awkward cough, I understood that shit was FUBAR before I joined the crew, and I had actually entertained the notion that Slippy and Falco had engaged in intercourse. The thought cropped into my thoughts due to Falco's graphic explanations of how he was supposedly_ "_going to rape" Slippy.

Fox started for the entrance of the cabin. By this time, Slippy and Falco looked like audience members at a Grateful Dead concert.

As I began to follow Fox to the cabin entrance, he stopped for a moment and said two words that summed up just about everything I had witnessed to this point.

"Too far."


End file.
